


May 1st

by sugarby



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Drabble, M/M, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 00:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18789184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarby/pseuds/sugarby
Summary: "I know we don’t really know each other, and I’m sorry your past birthdays sucked, but let's change that."“You’re really willing to do this? For my sake?”“Everyone deserves at least one good birthday.”(OR Nero attempts to bake V a cake).





	May 1st

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote his birthday on my calendar last month _and still put out something late_ but at least it's here!! Happy birthday to our radiant goth boy; you deserved better.
> 
> And I sort of _rushed_ this, ngl.

“Did you know it’s V’s birthday today?”

"Really?" Dante just peeks over his magazine from his desk, surprised enough to show mild attention before refocusing on the month's current pin-up model. "'Cause the way he tells it, he's two days old."

“That’s from a poem, he told me."

Offered to read a few, in fact, in their spare time and, no offence to V, but it was and is one of the last things he wants to do.

In a city where death seems imminent and like they've been running on skill and luck alone, where too much of the dark, the mystery and that voice make parts pleasantly shudder.

Nero rubs the nape of his neck, " _Anyway_ , shouldn't we do something?"

" _We_?"

"For his birthday."

" _Again_ , _we_?"

Nero turns his head to the side with a sigh. Truthfully, he hasn't thought this through; there's hardly anything they can do in the middle of the apocalypse. 

Dante drops his magazine a couple inches below his eyes, "Look, aside from the fact that now's not the best time to party, he doesn't seem like the partying type."

"True but—"

"Why's this so important to you?"

"I know what it's like to be alone."

"Spare me the poor little orphan story, Nero."

Dante doesn't need reminding of the childhood the devil hunter before him has grown up from; doesn't need to feel inclined to compare it to his own harrowing upbringing as a means to inspire him to look ahead all that bullshit.

"He seems to prefer being by himself."

Nero looks down.

Dante sighs, "I just don't wanna have to deal with you moping about if he shuts you down."

"I'm not a _sking him out_ , Dante. Who doesn't celebrate their birthday?" 

"Maybe it brings back bad memories." Dante says, keeping to himself the idea of parents tag-teaming their child and publicly humiliating them through the force of their unconditional love.

He bets that has something to do with it, the emo vibe and secrecy—like he's walking away from something bad.

Whatever it is, if it's really so bad then Nero, walking out of the Devil May Cry office, expects he won't be changing his mind about this anytime soon.

* * *

"You doing anything later?”

“Possibly. The day isn’t over yet.”

“It’s your birthday today, right?”

"It is.”

“Wanna, maybe, do something? There a type of cake you like? I can ask Kyrie to whip something up, or," Nero shrugs, "Even try it myself.”

“Thank you but that’s not necessary.”

“Oh, come on, they can’t be that hard to make.”

"It was Confucius who said 'to know what you know and what you do not know, that is knowledge'."

"Look," Nero exhales, hands on hips, one foot ahead of the other in definitiveness, "I kill demons for a living, _I think_ I can manage a cake."

“It’s really alright.” V sounds like he's pleading more than assuring, expecting a massacre of ingredients and an untimely explosion of mess through the sincerity and no one needs that.

There's enough to clean up as it is; he's _tired enough_ as it is (and can't even complain because that'll lead to _why_ , which he can't answer either).

“You doth protest too much. C'mon," Nero nudges an elbow against V's, and again then rejoices at the reluctant smile he draws from him.

“With all due respect, we have more pressing matters than to celebrate than my...‘birth’.” V says the word with a struggle, harshly as if it's not as normal as anyone else being born. “I’ve never been fond of them in the past anyway.”

“Dante figured, said maybe you had embarrassingly-protective parents.”

"If only." V lips turn up but it's not the smile of someone happy to reflect.

"I know we don’t really know each other, and I’m sorry your past birthdays sucked, but let's change that."

“You’re really willing to do this? For my sake?”

“Everyone deserves at least one good birthday.”

* * *

As it turns out, ingredients to make a cake aren’t so accessible in the middle of the apocalypse. Pretty much every store is messed up by demon attacks or ransacked by survivors, or what little products are tarnished.

Luck shines down on Nero though, presenting to him a bent but still sealed box of cake mix that just needs water. It even comes with icing and decorations, so he's sure he's hit the jackpot.

Not exactly fine dining but it’s the best they got.

Nero does his best with the tiny kitchen in Nico's van, and it goes well enough. He checks on the cake a few times but knows it'll taste really good when it's fluffy and golden brown.

Until then, he keeps watch nearby, leaning against the counter beside it. He looks over at V on the couch across from him.

“So what were they like?"

"My parents?"

"Them too." Although Nero doesn't expect much, or any, information on them; not even their favourite colours of what they liked to do in their spare time—nothing that can verbally present their existence. "But I mean your past birthdays. In the church, there was always a bunch of kids running round Kyrie and me when it was ours."

“I shared my birthday with another, and they...were insistent on having the most attention.”

“Annoying little sibling?”

“Very.”

“That sucks. Least you get this day, _and me_ , all to yourself.” 

The timer he set on his phone goes off and, pulling out the cake, it's pretty much done. Nero lets out the breath he hadn't fully realised he'd been holding in suspense and sets the cake on the countertop.

V sits up to peek, “I didn’t take you for a culinary genius, Nero.”

“Anyone can read instructions, V, not so hard. Plus, I’ve watched Kyrie do it enough times.”

“And here I was concerned you might confused salt for sugar."

“I wouldn’t!” Nero denies but blushed because he easily could've from the excitement, and the distraction of chit-chat.

He won't make that mistake again, deciding to wait in silence for the cake to cool while nodding along to Devil Trigger he sings in his head.

When it's time, he sorts out the icing and decorative that came along. Where the box advises a steady mix of water in to the icing powder, Nero turns up the twist speed on his _pasta breaker—_ (V lifting a brow is very justified but Nero retorts with 'why not?' and a grin like a mischievous child) _—_ and the mix spins with a buzz and gurgle around the bowl.

When it comes to spreading it on, he equips a regular prosthetic hand to squeeze it through the bag as professionally as he can pretend; next to an inedible cake, the worst is an unattractive one.

The icing slithers rather than pushes, thickness coming through the hole he cut way too small to allow so much at once, and he's hating himself for it right now and the way his hand's starting to ache.

He feels V press against him from behind, lets him rest his chin on his shoulder and gently redirect his hands over the bag.

Nero tries not to look back and just goes with it, "You know, if Nico were here right now, she'd give us shit for this. Say we're like that film with the poetry and the, uh," he gulps. "Sexual tension."

V's smile can be felt, practically pressing against Nero's neck, “Is that how I make you feel?"

“N-No, just, it’s pretty similar.”

"You're blushing."

"Shut up!"

“Forgive me if this is discomforting but I couldn't stand by and allow you to make a mess. My culinary skills were itching to assist."

Nero angles his head up, "Wait, you can cook? And you've just been watching me sweat over not messing this up the whole time? You asshole."

Soon enough when they cake looks covered enough, they step back to marvel. It's sloppy, the icing having forgone chilling in the fridge as the box (that Nero stopped relying on awhile ago) recommended for the best results, so it's droopy and running down the sides and taking the sprinkles with it.

Other than that, it looks decent, and as much as Nero likes to do things stylishly with a bang, he'll take it.

"Happy Birthday, V."

"Thank you."

“You get first bite.”

“I’ll pretend it’s solely out of courtesy and not a bit related to your being too afraid.”

V digs a fork in to a corner of the cake and, cupping a hand underneath, takes a bite. He chews with an unreadable expression for some time, tongue now and again sliding across his lips to get the full flavour.

Nero figures it mustn't be so bad and takes his turn. He chews quicker, impatient to meet that sweetness.

He's met with disappointment and horror, a sickening overuse of a potent ingredient in the back of his throat. He coughs out in the open, then throws his arm over and coughs harder in to it.

He spits what he can out in to the sink, yanks the tap to the side and lets the water rush down at such intensity that part of the coughing fit comes from nearly drowning.

V hums, head tilting in consideration. He picks up the empty box the cake mix came in, reads the back and announces, "Ah, it seems that this," he holds it up to Nero, watches his eyes widen, "Is past its expiration date."

“Shit. Well, at least it’s not my fault.”

“I didn’t expect anyone would care for me enough to put themselves through this.”

“Savour it.” Nero means the moment as well as the horrible cake.

He watches V take another bite to be polite and this time he starts coughing too but from trying to keep it down. Nero pats his back harder than necessary and V accidentally swallows it all at once, gasping for air and clinging to to hand on him tightly,

“‘Cause next year, you're just getting a card."

**Author's Note:**

> It's not a birthday without cake, that's fact ~~unlessyou'reallergicorliterallyjustcan'tofc~~.
> 
> I bake frequently so this wasn't so bad for me to write but, Nero, htf you gonna try and kill a man on his birthday?!


End file.
